


It's Only Ever Looked So Loved

by Yellow_Soul



Category: South Park
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drabble, Fluff, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Introspection, K2 - Freeform, Kyle at least gets his feelings, Light Angst, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Oblivious, POV Alternating, Pre-Relationship, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Shopping, Sort of? - Freeform, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Tension, im not projecting youre projecting!, oblivious Kenny, sorry Kenny it's true, there's dialogue this time, they just need to talk, this was beta read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:20:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23615119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yellow_Soul/pseuds/Yellow_Soul
Summary: Kenny liked his second-hand clothes because it felt… real. It wasn’t stiff or itchy from unuse. It was homey. Lived in. Kenny loved clothes that made people stop and think, “Well that has seen better days,” Because y’know what? They were right. It had.But it had only ever looked so loved on him.
Relationships: Kyle Broflovski & Kenny McCormick, Kyle Broflovski/Kenny McCormick
Comments: 10
Kudos: 53
Collections: My Projection Projects





	It's Only Ever Looked So Loved

**Author's Note:**

> My wife didn't tell me she edited this using parentheses, so I'm sorry to those of you who saw the edits in the fic when it was posted! I was nOT aware they were there!

Soft shuffling of his feet was the only sound heard as the thrift store was void of any customers, unsurprisingly given the time of day. The sun wasn’t set, but it was a close thing, the dim lights of the store did little to help aid Kenny’s eyes as he flipped through the clothes on the rack before him. An occasional sound from whichever employee was still ambling about righting the ‘products’ and spiffing up displays could be heard. It was for this reason that Kenny chose to come to the store at all, free from judging eyes and crude snickers. 

There was nothing wrong with shopping second hand. It was a great way to save money, it was more efficient than getting lost in a bigger store, and… Well, there were plenty of other reasons. Kenny just couldn’t think of them right now.

He took his armful of clothes to the dressing rooms, flimsy cubicles that offered the minimum of privacy. Another great reason not to come when the store was busier. Trying on the clothes didn’t take long by any means, but there was something about it that made him feel vulnerable. Alone in a dreary building with lights that were too low, looking at himself in the mirror and seeing someone else.

Some people find wearing hand-me-downs gross. There’s no real reason why, who’s to say that whoever owned the clothes before you showered any less? Even if they did, it was not as though the clothes weren’t washed before being put out to sell. Kenny doesn’t feel dirty standing in the worn jeans and too-big t-shirt he’d picked out.

He felt new. Despite the clothes worn appearance, the holes in the knees that weren’t there for style, but from use. He felt as if he were someone else, someone different from the ratty haired kid who couldn’t afford a pressed shirt for his sisters concert. Even the nicer of the clothes he had chosen couldn’t measure up to a button-down dress shirt, but Kenny was fine with that. It wasn’t stuffy clothes like that that made him feel strong.

Kenny liked his second-hand clothes because it felt… real. It wasn’t stiff or itchy from unuse. It was homey. Lived in. Kenny loved clothes that made people stop and think, “Well _that_ has seen better days,” Because y’know what? They were right. It had.

But it had only _ever_ looked so loved on him.

Even in the poor lighting, in a cramped stall that did little to keep some stranger from barging in on him, Kenny felt impossibly at ease. Even if he could afford nice clothes, the kind that Stan wore, he liked to think he’d still choose something like this. Something that was as broken-in and faded as the hoodie still left on its hanger, Kenny not having felt the need to try it on, given that it was obviously too large. He would buy it regardless. 

He was quick to scoop up his haul for the day, making his way to the register. The cashier, someone older than him that he vaguely recognized from school, only gave a derisive snort as he looked at the messy pile Kenny had all but dropped on the counter.

“Is that all for today?” there was a bite of snark in his words that Kenny found he couldn’t mind, a smile splitting his face, “Yep!”

* * *

Kyle had not meant to wind up here, not so soon. He only ever ventured in right before closing, as much of a prick as it made him out to be. He couldn’t help it.

If Kyle’s parents caught him snooping around on the… ‘bad’ side of town, then he was sure his mother would forbid him from leaving his room without direct supervision, or something else as stupidly drastic. She meant well but _fuck_ was she overbearing. The parking lot was thankfully empty, and Kyle didn't see any point in waiting outside the building, that’d just raise more suspicion if he was seen.

The first step in was like entering a different dimension. It had been quiet outside, but this was a different brand of quiet. There was no sound of insects and grasshoppers chirping, no soft rumble of cars as people made their way home. No nothing. Every shift of clothing, every squeak of his sneaker felt like a whispered secret being shamefully shared. It was wonderful.

Kyle had never been in the store while the sun was still out, but there was something otherworldly in how the red light gleamed through the shop windows, casting everything in warm, rosy hues. It was serene, Kyle felt a sense of peace wash over him as his eyes dragged over the clothing sections.

Until he heard the beep of something being run up.

His head snapped so quickly it nearly gave him whiplash, the source of the noise being the obvious. Of course someone else was here. It wasn’t so late that it was unusual for others to be shopping, Kyle should have seen it coming (hell he _had_ , he just hadn’t thought it’d be a problem-), there was a reason he only ever ventured this way at night. And yet he was frozen to the spot.

Of all the people to run into, it only made sense that it would be Kenny. Yet Kenny was the last person Kyle wanted to know about this, the last person he’d even _dared_ to imagine bumping into. He was afraid the other might misunderstand.

Kyle was well off, he knew that. He didn’t need discount clothes, he never even _wore_ any. If Kenny saw him wandering around here it would seem as though Kyle were looking down on him. But he wasn’t! There was nothing to look down _on_ , Kyle knew that! But Kenny didn’t always share that sentiment.

If Kenny saw him, Kyle would have no way to explain why he was here. The truth suddenly felt flimsy and silly, a half-assed lie that he couldn’t bear to push past his lips. It wasn’t a lie. It _wasn’t_... But Kenny would think it was.

He barely managed to make himself move, like rebooting an old computer, stiff and slow. Kenny seemed unbothered by his presence, he didn’t realize Kyle was there at all. Thank god for whatever had enraptured his attention (probably his total, judging by the way he was digging a wad of cash and change out of his pockets). There wasn’t much in the way of hiding places and, frankly, Kyle thought that made him seem more guilty than he already appeared. Not that he was, guilty or anything, but fuck was this messing with him. Why couldn’t Kenny leave already? Or better yet, why was he wandering around dilapidated stores at odd hours?

He was so lost in his own mind, thumbing slowly through shirts with faded logos and odd patterns that he was sure couldn’t match _anything_ , that he didn't hear the footsteps approach him from behind. He didn’t pay any mind to the world around him, finally back on task. For now there was nothing but him and the worn orange shirt he ran his fingers over, the print on it nearly unrecognizable. It was three sizes too big, and it looked as if it might have been further stretched by its previous owner.

It was just a thing. Something that had outlived its use. Unneeded or perhaps outgrown, it had been sold. Any memories it once held were tossed aside with it.

There was something beautiful in that. A part of Kyle adored it. Finding something so loved that its color faded and letters peeled. Someone had lived their life in this shirt, maybe it was once their favourite, perhaps they just had nothing else to wear.

Kyle didn’t care.

Now the shirt would be his, now _he_ would cherish it, doubly so for it having been thrown to the wayside as it was. He was childish to act as though a _shirt_ could be sad about being sold, but that didn’t make his feelings change. Kyle would probably only ever wear it in the comfort of his own room, as pajamas, where his mother wouldn’t ask probing questions about where he got it, or if the pajamas that _she_ bought him weren't good enough.

He felt guilty knowing he wouldn’t be doing justice by it if he didn’t wear it proudly, but… Kyle loved quietly. He loved in a simpering silent way that boiled _deep_ inside him. It didn’t matter if no one ever saw him wear this shirt, it would still be _his_ favourite.

“Ya done lookin’?” he was used to grouchy employees shooing him out of the store when he’d overstayed his welcome, this was no different from every other time. “Yes, I think this is all I-”

Blond hair was the only thing that registered in his brain before he nearly shut down entirely. How he didn’t recognize the other’s voice immediately was a miracle and a horror all at once. Kyle desperately wanted to bolt, but he was too stubborn to do anything but meet Kenny’s eyes in shock. Besides, only guilty people _bolted_ , and Kyle wasn’t doing anything wrong.

Kenny was smiling in that way that Kyle knew meant he was formulating some smart ass comment, but the warmth of his humour didn’t quite reach his eyes. “What’s a High Elf such as you doin’ in the slums?”

He knew it was more of a jab at Kenny himself, then at Kyle, but his heart ached nonetheless. “I’d hardly call this slums, princess,”

It wasn’t the right thing to say. It wasn’t wrong either. Kenny’s eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t respond. Instead he eyed the shirt in Kyle’s hands curiously, asking the words he didn’t have the will to say with his body language. Kyle heard it loud and clear. _‘What are you doing with_ that _?’_

“I’m buying this.” He winced at how defensive it came out. Kenny simply raised his hands in surrender, his bags swinging with the sudden movement, “Sure- one man’s trash is another man’s treasure,”

There’s something about the way he said it, the infliction, his tone… It twisted Kyle’s guts, pushing him over the metaphorical edge he’d been teetering on, making him snap. “This isn’t trash! Who ever threw it away was stupid, they obviously didn’t deserve it.” He couldn’t explain the way his stomach rolled, knowing his argument sounded weak and senseless, he was an idiot.

This time he didn’t bother fighting his instincts. He swiveled on his heels and headed for the door, nearly tripping over the shirt he’d dropped in his haste to _get out._ He didn’t look back until he was at his front door, Kenny hadn’t followed him.

* * *

Neither brought it up at school the next day, almost as if it had never happened at all. Kyle would have been fine pretending it was nothing but an odd dream. If not for the shirt he found, tucked away neatly in the corner of his locker.

An orange shirt, faded and far too large for him.

Normally Kyle would say something. It was only natural to thank someone for a gift. Despite their silent agreement not to bring it up, it was cold to ignore that Kenny had spent his hard earned money on something just for Kyle.

But he loved quietly. His feelings boiled and welled up in his heart. Kenny didn’t need to know why Kyle had wanted the shirt, he had gotten it for him anyways… Kenny also didn’t need to know that the shirt had reminded Kyle of him. Or that he wouldn’t be able to wear it without thinking about Kenny. No, that was Kyle’s secret. Who ever owned the shirt before him no longer mattered, only the fact that it was Kenny who bought it for him. He didn’t care how much they’d cherished the shirt, or loathed to give it away. It would only ever look so loved on _him_.

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by my hand-me-down shirt that is worn to bare threads, that I still use. I love it to pieces. Literally.


End file.
